The Final Skirmish
by SkyewardSword
Summary: After battling ghosts, finding his friends dead, and protecting his little sister as best as he could from all of the trauma, how will Satoshi deal with finally meeting the psychopathic shell known by the name of Kizami Yuuya?
**A / N: Hoo boy. This might not be my best work, since I haven't written in such a long time, but I'm back! Enjoy the story. You're probably okay with this since you're in the corpse party fandom, but just to forewarn you, this fic is rated M for death and implied cannibalism. No smut here, sorry. Have fun ^_***

A quiet breeze floated down the corridor. Floorboards creaked, window panes rattled; yet the atmosphere of the room overwhelmed.

The two of them stood, preparing for a final showdown, with a third, smaller body behind one of the pair. This was unavoidable. Everyone else had died or were lost somewhere in Heavenly Host.

Satoshi was the one to cut through the atmosphere first. "Kizami," he spat. "I know what you've been doing to my sister."

Kizami simply smiled. "Little Yuka? She's quite the sweetheart. What were you thinking, abandoning her in a place like this?"

A dark rage flashed in Satoshi's eyes - a primal, wild, raw emotion.

Kizami's smile widened. "In this hellhole," he started, "you either die by these godforsaken ghosts, starve to death, or are killed by another student. I, unlike you, was protecting little Yuka from two out of the three."

Yuka whimpered behind Satoshi's protective form. Was it in fear? Protest? Submission? It didn't matter. They all sounded the same to Kizami.

"Protecting her?" Satoshi seethed, near shaking with rage. "You terrified her. Tried to kill her."

"No I didn't. Did I, little Yuka?" he looked down at her and extended his hand cordially, bloodstained from his recent murder of Kurosaki. The blood on his shirt was already starting to dry, making a quiet crinkling sound as he moved. A small inconvenience, really: it made him seem far more intimidating than he wanted to look. He was sure that if he hadn't dirtied the shirt he could more easily persuade Yuka to come with him. He beckoned with his outstretched arm. "Come here. Come embrace your _real_ big brother. Come let me protect you. This "Satoshi"? He's nothing but a liar. A fake. He's impersonating me. Ha ha."

Yuka scrunched her eyes up, tears beginning to form on her long, youthful lashes. She shook her head. "Big brother, let's leave. I'm scared," she breathed, addressing Satoshi.

A sudden, impulsive, muted anger welled up inside Kizami. How dare Satoshi be referred to as Yuka's big brother? How dare he? In an instant, the broad smile on Kizami's face was replaced by a feral snarl, as if the former expression had not once graced his face in all his lifetime. A strand of dark hair fell over one of his eyes. He took a step forward, drawing a dark-bladed, serrated pocket knife from the back pocket of his jeans. "Yuka is mine," he growled to Satoshi, "Do not get in my way."

Quickly, Kizami took a sharp breath in, calming himself. His fickle mood instantly changed back to one of nonchalance.

"Well, I didn't want to kill you, Mochida," he said pleasantly, "but if you don't hand _my_ little sister over right now I will have to. She deserves better than a filthy, worthless liar like yourself. Though I applaud your success in convincing her for so long that you are who you say you are."

Satoshi stepped back. He shook his head. "No," he whispered to himself. After a long pause, he crouched down in front of Yuka. "Yuka," he said quietly, "I need you to do something for me. I need you to escape, get away from here."

"Big brother, I don't want to leave you again-"

"I know. I don't want to leave you either. But I'll meet up with you later, okay? I won't lose you again. I promise."

At length, Yuka nodded her head. Satoshi hugged Yuka warmly. "I love you," he whispered to her, brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face, "Stay safe."

A short bark of a laugh came from behind the pair. "Satoshi?" rung out the deep voice of Kizami, "you're leaving her alone again? What a "brother" you are! You _want_ her dead, don't you? Don't you? You don't care about her at all, because you were never her brother in the first place!"

Satoshi stiffened as Yuka's small form backed away, ran, and turned a corner. As the tip-tap of Yuka's small feet petered off, Satoshi straightened slowly and turned towards Kizami. He felt the cool blade of the scissors he had picked up earlier in the nurse's office slide past his hip as he slowly drew them from the space they had occupied between his skin and the waist of his uniform. He saw Kizami's response - not scared, not even concerned, just amused.

"So you found a weapon, did you? A pair of scissors. Ha! You think a pair of scissors can trump a custom-made blade?"

Satoshi silently took a fighting stance, leaning forwards slightly to distribute his weight more on his back leg, ready to lunge.

"I'm Yuka's big brother. I have protected her for her entire life. I'm just protecting her again."

He attacked, snarling.

Kizami effortlessly parried. "Try harder." He winked. He lunged as Satoshi dashed backwards, nimble on his feet. They locked blades, metal on metal, scissor on knife. Again and again, Satoshi went on the offense, only to be met with smooth defense. The curt _clink_ of the two instruments colliding recurrently, almost regularly, rang through the elementary school, joining the chorus of ambience that permeated every inch and crack. The groaning and grunting of the corrupted youths locked in battle seemed out of place in such a seemingly-innocent establishment.

Kizami was delighted. This, here, now, was his element. So many times had he fantasised about a situation just like this. Guns were overrated - close-range combat between two rivals, now that showed true skill. He danced around thrusts and lunges, deflecting every one easily, performing feints and appels. He was playing defensively only to extend the engagement. He knew he could kill his partner immediately if he wanted to. But he had never felt more alive than with this adrenaline burning through his veins. It was fun. He wanted to savour this duel, and extend the payoff.

Satoshi, on the other hand, was beginning to struggle. His face had gone red and he had started to sweat. His discomfort was also evidenced by his ragged, heavy breathing. He had put his all into offense without considering the toll it would have on his stamina.

"I won't... lose..." he gasped, "I can't... I have to win for Yuka." _For Yuka, For Yuka, For Yuka..._ it was the mantra that kept him going. He felt like his muscles were screaming for more oxygen, for more energy. He felt like he was burning up. But he battled through it - because he had no other choice.

Kizami noticed Satoshi slowing. He laughed. "Tired, Mochida? Let me see that exhausted face!"

 _It's close to the point now,_ Kizami thought, _Where this will become more tedious than fun. I will finally kill this imposter. And I will enjoy it. I will have my release._

Satoshi was near collapse when he finally slipped up. He was exhausted, and Kizami's extra seven inches of height had contributed to his ease of defeat. Satoshi tried to lunge once more, but Kizami performed a leisurely circular parry. Satoshi was too tired to tightly snap back into a defensive stance. Kizami spied the opening and, with a final, savage smile, thrust his knife forwards with both hands, catching Satoshi right under the ribs and knocking him on the ground. Kizami pinned him. Pure terror clouded Satoshi's eyes as he realised what had happened. He reflexively coughed and a small spurt of blood escaped from his mouth, landing softly on Kizami's cheek.

Kizami laughed. He had won. And oh, did that warm blood feel good. Before Satoshi could use the scissors clutched in his fist to stab him in the back, the Byakudan high school student widened his pin to hold both of Satoshi's arms under his knees, his hands still grasping the knife in Mochida's ribs. With a flash of a smirk, he dug the knife into Satoshi's chest one more inch, enjoying the sight of the boy's mouth opening in a silent expression of pain. The serrated edge of Kizami's blade shined in the low light of the corridor. He could see the blood on it now.

"After I kill you, I could carve you up," he whispered, "and feed your rump to Yuka. With you, imposter, out of her life, she'll come running straight back to _me_ , her real brother, and we _will_ get out of this school. I'll keep _your_ body hidden in _my_ fridge, and one day, when _my_ little sister finally forgets you, I'll feed you to her. How do you feel about that?"

A look of horror came over Satoshi's face, only elevating Kizami's enjoyment.

"Goodnight," Kizami whispered quietly, and with a finality, he sliced down Satoshi's chest to his navel, and then horizontally too, just for good measure. He extracted the knife from Satoshi's corpse and straightened up only when he saw the last sparks of life leave those chestnut eyes, saw them glaze over when enough of the floorboards and his jeans had been dyed red. He gave one more sigh of pleasure and then, just like that, started down the corridor to find Yuka, his knife dripping deadly paint as he went.


End file.
